


Days in the Life

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: Dark Chocolate [12]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Inspired by On My Block, Language, Mafiacouple, Murder, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Smidge of Smut, Some POV shifting, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping, alternating pov, mafiafell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23273431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: The realities of the life were never the splendor that sprinkled the surface.
Relationships: Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Sans (Undertale)/Reader
Series: Dark Chocolate [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/848361
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Days in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> Mind the tags and the warnings :D

When did it all start? You couldn’t say. There was no specific point where you just decided you were in, you just were. It was a package deal with Sans and you’d never looked back. Never questioned it. 

Looking at him now, you still don’t think you would change anything.

* * *

“Wrap it all.”

“Sans?!”

“S-sir?”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

With a gleeful shout you throw your arms around his neck, soaking in the smell of smoke and chalk. Though he does nothing but grin in return, a hand pressed gently into the small of your back, the gesture is enough to make you swoon all over again.

* * *

He didn’t need to breathe. But he did. For you. The same way you didn’t need to tighten the ropes he could shortcut out of but knew he wanted the touch of your skin on him before you started. He could hear your heavy swallow before you stepped away. 

He wanted to hear your voice, but it would break everything. 

And they were watching.

* * *

“THAT WAS STUPID.”

“Whatcha bein’ all pissy for? She said wash it, I washed it.”

“THAT MUCH AT ONCE IS—”

“A fuckin’ present for my wife, get offa my ass, Paps.”

“YOU’RE PUSHING IT, SANS. TORI WAS NOT HAPPY.”

“Happy wife, happy life.”

* * *

You immediately head to the whip, it’s the least likely to cause permanent damage but Toriel just looks at you and you reach for the bat without flinching. 

There’s pride in Sans eyes when you turn and step towards him. 

As you vision begins to blur, you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood. It stops the scream threatening to spill and the soothes the urge to fling the weapon into the goat monsters face. 

You raise the bat.

Lock eyes.

And swing down.

* * *

“If Paps finds out we’re here he’s gonna pitch a fit.”

“Good.” He watches you grin at him before turning to waiter and shakes his head. So you had picked it on purpose, he should’ve known. “We’ve got a reservation for two.” 

“You ain’t the one that gotta hear him bitch, babe.”

“Exactly! Plus, I wanted a date night without poison masquerading as pasta.”

“Whatever you say.”

He tries to hide the snicker behind the menu but when he meets your gaze over the menu, he can’t stop the flutter of affection. The smirk on your lips is enough to make him want to tell Paps, if only to rat you out before you rat him out. 

“I need to hit the ladies, be right back.”

His gaze never leaves you as you walk away.

* * *

It taps him.

Shit is hard enough to hurt, and he can feel the crack of bone but _he knows you_. Knows you didn’t put enough force behind it. And he’ll dust them all if she puts you in the chair instead because you are pussyfooting around. So, he smiles at you, the same cocky grin you always kiss off his face.

“You hit like a bitch.”

This time his vision shutters when you bring it down.

* * *

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m just the messenger.”

“Look lady, I can pay you more.”

“Thanks, but I already got paid. Taking my hubby out—ha! Get it? I have to remember that for later—for dinner with it right now.”

“I’ll sh—”

“No. You won’t.”

* * *

Her arm squeezes your shoulder as she passes by. It’s the most pity you’ll get out of her, and it takes everything in you not to rip it off your shoulder. To not pull her down and hit her with the bat until she is the same. 

Until she’s a mess of bone and blood and magic. 

Until it’s her body slowly crumbling in your arms.

Until it’s her image in your mind. 

Her bones, sharp and white against the blood.

Her flesh clinging to the bat.

Her bones you hear cracking. 

Her flesh popping under the force of your blows. 

Her blood on your lips.

Instead you cling to Sans until there’s nothing left to cling to, arms punching around yourself as his body fully dusts.

* * *

“Sans?”

The skeleton glances up and you smile but your gaze is sharp even as smother laughter because he is anything but subtle. 

“Why is there like fifty pounds of flour in the cupboard and a bunch of noodle recipes?”

“Paps gotta learn sometime.”

“He’s going to kill you.”

“That’s impastable.”

You don’t bother to hold back your peals of laughter now.

* * *

Papyrus watches you lunge for the gun and wraps around you like a vice. Takes in your shrieks of rage, and accusations heavy enough to bruise. He won’t let it slacken his grip because then Sans would—

He closes his eyes as you continue to struggle, screaming threats and profanities now that it’s just the two of you. It made sense now why you’d been so calm about Tori assigning the jump out to you. But he couldn’t let you do it. 

Not if he couldn’t too.

* * *

“WHERE IS IT?”

“Flour.”

“YOU PUT IT IN—FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SANS!”

“Gotta problem?”

“HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO TRANSPORT FLOUR…WAIT…”

“Not bad, eh?”

“IF TORI DECIDES TO OPEN A FUCKING BAKERY, I’M TELLING MUFFET THIS WAS YOUR FAULT.”

* * *

Hands on your hips. 

Teeth on your neck.

But it’s not his voice in your ear.

And it’s not his name on your lips.

~~But in the dark you can almost pretend it is him, and maybe you both pretend you don’t hear the whisper of _his_ name in the dark.~~

* * *

“Gotta a light?”

“Not for you, last match is for me.”

“Aw, come on, babe!”

“Go babe the bimbo across the street.” You mutter, keeping true to words as you lite your own cigarette with a smug grin. “Go on.”

The skeleton glares at you then snatches yours right out of your mouth, pulling a drag before pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Share?”

“I guess.”

He swallows up your pretend huff and laughter.

* * *

He watches the kid from afar.

They’re safe. It’s what Sans wanted but he can’t show it to you.

Not after he hadn’t been able to save the parents from your misplaced rage. 

~~He wonders when his own will die down enough that he doesn’t think about strangling you when you fall asleep beside him.~~

* * *

“Sans, where is the fucking light?!”

“We ain’t doin’ it.”

“We don’t have time for this—”

“There’s a kid inside, babe—”

“Tori doesn’t care, Sans.”

“…you knew.”

“That’s why I wasn’t going to have you come but I used the match and—”

“I’ll handle the heat.”

“No! This is a green light! She’s going to do it anyways and kill us both if she finds out we didn’t—”

“I’ll get ‘em outta here.”

“Sans…”

“Get the fuck outta here already.”

* * *

Maybe you hadn’t known where it started but staring at his headstone you sure as fuck knew where it had ended. 

It had ended in the harsh light of day like all nighttime glitter and glitz did.

**Author's Note:**

> In case some things weren't clear!
> 
> Sans and reader didn't finish a hit, someone has to pay for the fuck up and our lovely Sans does of course. It was not intended that he die but what are you gonna do with 1HP :D


End file.
